


Samuel - Prince of Armoura

by aceofhearts88



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: College AU, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Open Relationships, Sam is Nick's son, Sam is a Prince, T'Challa and Sam are cousins, but I won't tag them because I do not want to mislead, relationships are not the focus of this story, royal au, the tagged characters are the important ones, there are also minor appearances or mentions of other MCU characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-16 02:24:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10561822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceofhearts88/pseuds/aceofhearts88
Summary: [ON HIATUS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE]Sam was a prince.But he hadn't always been one.Or at least, he himself hadn't known.And now where the pressure of the crown and the expectations of his people were threatening to make him lose sight of who he really was, his father offered him the chance to escape from it for a while. To go back to America and be just a boy.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> based on the following prompt:  
> “I really want a Prince!Sam au where he didn’t know he was a prince until he was a teen (think Princess Diaries) but now he’s all adjusted and grown up and stuff so he goes back to America on a diplomatic visit, where he meets Nat, Bucky, and Steve (he can be romantic with any/none/all/one/two of them, I just want them all to be in it) and then stuff happens.” 
> 
> This is a Teen rated version of the story, once it is completed, there will be an explicit smutty version of the second part uploaded separately.

Sam was nineteen when his father called him into his solar, placed flyers in his hands and told him to choose a college. Recently having come off age in the country he hadn't grown up in but had been born to lead one day, Sam had struggled with the weight of the responsibility on his shoulders. And though he had tried to mask it, had tried to find a way between himself and the crown in private, his father had seemingly still noted his inner war.

"These are all in America." He pointed out and looked over to his father sitting behind his desk, and the King of Armoura glanced up from his work. Sam tried not to scoff right back at him, they had just gotten used to actually being father and son again, but sometimes it still showed that they had spent more time of Sam's life apart from each other than together.

"You told me you miss it." King Nicholas explained and Sam bit his lips, kept himself from blurting out just how much he missed the country he had grown up in. He liked this new life, he liked his country, he loved the people, the culture and the food, and he wouldn't trade this life in for anything anymore. He had his whole family back.

And still...America...New York...New Orleans...it had been home for so long.

"How long would I be gone?" Sam wanted to know next, fingers shifting through the flyers, one Ivy League college after the other, this wouldn't be easy.   
"As long as you need." His father told him and Sam looked up again, no reason for pretending anymore just how tired he felt. And was. So many nights already had he laid awake, worrying, thinking, trying to make sense, trying to breathe through the weight of everything.

Expectations.

His father's. His mother's. The people's.

His own.

And maybe the last one was the best reason on why he needed an out, because if he didn't figure out what he wanted to be, how he was seeing himself now, he would lose himself under the responsibilities and the pressure of the crown.

A life, a duty had been born for, but not raised.

"Wait..." He realized something as he thumbed through the Harvard flyer, "Can't I go to England? T'Challa and his friend are at Oxford. No one better to help figure out my head than him, we're friends, Dad. I can trust him, I don't have to hide around him." It felt like ages since he had last seen Wakanda's Crown Prince, but when he looked up he caught sight of the clearly unimpressed deadpanned expression on his father's face.

"The two of you are wrecking enough chaos and breaking more than enough hearts when you're not together in the same country, let alone the same college. I think I'd rather spare T'Chaka and me the additional headaches, son." Nicholas told him and Sam smirked, fully ignoring the hidden reproach, T'Challa's and his latest adventures still on his mind and that had already been almost a year ago.

Fun times.

Especially because neither of them had yet been off age and the duties of their crown's heirs hadn't been resting on their shoulders yet. T'Challa was taking it all easier now, even if his emails spoke about struggles sometimes as well, but T'Challa had learned of what was to come since early childhood, he had felt the pressure grow over time. Sam's shoulders had been carrying it all suddenly and without warning really.

And T'Challa had friends.

A best friend he had grown up with, siblings, cousins, people he could confide it, people he could show weakness to without losing face, without risking it being spread like wild rumors to destabilize the crown.

Sam had had that once, too. 

But then Riley had died for him. Riley had given his life for the boy he had loved, had sacrificed himself so Sam could live. Live a life with the memory of his best friend and first love always close to his heart.

And Sarah would marry the Belgian Crown Prince, was spending time at the Belgian court with the prince she had fallen in love with, learning the costumes of another country, attending a good school in Brusseles. Happy.

He must have spaced out because before he was really back out of his thoughts, his father was crouched down before him, his strong hands resting on Sam's knees.  
"I am happy that Prince T'Challa is able to give you advice and be a friend for you. But that help is not enough, I can see that you are unhappy, my son." His father began and Sam took a breath, bit his bottom lip, "You need time away. A year, two, maybe even three. Time away to figure out who you are now before the expectations at court push you into becoming someone you are not. The crown is your future, son, and I know that you will do great by this country, but it doesn't mean that I don't want you to be happy, too."

"I don't want to run away." Sam argued and his father smiled, squeezed his knees and then slowly got back to his feet, leaning back against his desk, looking at Sam with those warm kind eyes. That look that Sam had remembered even in the long long years they had spent apart.  
"You're not running, son. The people will understand, they want their prince happy and healthy as well. Take the college experience, Sam, be young, live, make experiences, make friends. And then when you feel you are ready, come home and be the prince you want to be. Our country is safe and stable, Sam, no better time than now, before you break down on me." And Sam hung his head to his father's words but also took the hands reaching for his arms, let himself be pulled to his feet and into strong arms.

"I know you are giving your best, son." His father continued while Sam felt his eyes fill with tears of relief, his face hidden against his father's strong shoulder, "And I understand that this cannot be easy for you, and our people will have to learn that you need more time before you can be what they are already seeing in you. I am so proud of you, son, so proud of the man you are becoming and even prouder of the man you already are. Take this opportunity, Sam, and come back stronger."

\--

Sam was a prince.

But he hadn't always been one.

Or at least, he himself hadn't known. 

And now where the pressure of the crown and the expectations of his people were threatening to make him lose sight of who he really was, his father offered him the chance to escape from it for a while. To go back to America and be just a boy.

And Sam didn't realize how much he needed it when he laid in his bed that night, surrounded still by college flyers, the Harvard one still in his hand, and he fell asleep without troubles for the first time in months.


	2. Part I

Once upon a time, there was a country called Armoura.

A beautiful country with nature so great and wonderful, with forests and mountain ranges, with an ocean shore and crystal clear lakes. A country in the South of Africa where the rain only fell at night, where the sun shone in the day, bright and beautiful and warm in an azure blue cloudless sky.

A beautiful country with amazing people and a history everyone was proud of, a culture prospering and celebrated, with food so delicious. 

Armoura was a kingdom, having been ruled by kings and queens from the family of Furianza since the beginning of its time. The people loved their kings and queens, and the kings and queens loved them in turn as well, took care of them, protected them, ruled them with gentle hands and kind wise words.

Times were easy, the economy was rich and growing, people were happy.

Until the dark clouds began to rise over the palace up on the hill in the center of the capital, hiding the sun from view and throwing the entire kingdom into fear. They had just celebrated the young prince's second name day and the wonderful news of another life growing inside of their glowing Crown Princess when trouble descended the halls of the Royal Palace.

King Joseph was poisoned, and still frail and his heart weakened by the loss of his dear beloved Queen Katherine he succumbed to the fever within a fortnight. And all would have been well, they would have grieved and then looked ahead, celebrated the memory of their old king before looking ahead to the future.

Prince Nicholas was loved by his country, from the rich men and women in his father's council to the simple farmers in the east. His wife was beautiful and smart and so kind. His son, young Samuel, so precious and adored, so loved, so so loved. 

But then the dark clouds opened up to a thunderstorm, loud cracking thunder rumbling through the capital, lightning crashing down into the dry earth in the middle of summer from east to west, from north to south. The Crown Prince's younger brother Jackson and the King's younger brother Michael reappeared from where they had thought them long lost and deceased, bringing with themselves an army of mercenaries while the storm was still ravaging the country, laying vaste to what the storm had not reached yet. Announcing loudly for all to hear that it had been them who had killed the king to protect the people of Armoura.

People were scared, scared and terrified and looked to their Prince to hear them and save them. Nicholas gathered his men and confronted his uncle and brother, tried to reason with words and not with weapons, and it cost him dearly.

As the prince fell, severely injured by a knife to his chest, his closest guard and closest friend turned his back on him with a heavy heart but a determined soul and rushed back to the palace. He ushered pale and frightened Princess Darlene into the Quinjet always waiting under its mirrored panels behind the palace and gathered shaking young Prince Samuel into his arms before bringing the jet into the air and away from the capital.

Away from Armoura.

Not knowing of the fate of his prince.

Thomas brought his Princess and his young Prince across the border of her brother's kingdom in the north of Africa. And as they stepped from the jet, exhausted and tired, the sun rose beyond the jungle, rose over an uncertain future for all of them as Thomas watched Darlene fall into King T'Chaka's arms, Queen Ramonda cradling a crying Samuel in hers, quietly singing to him.

\--

When no news came from Armoura in the following weeks, whether good or bad, they made plans on how it could go on. As much as Princess Darlene wanted to remain at her brother's court where she felt safe, where she wandered through familiar halls while worried to the bone about her husband and the country she had come to love, a hand on her growing stomach where a child was growing towards an unstable future, she knew they wouldn't be safe here.

Wakanda was strong, but also still too close to Armoura, if god beware her husband had been lost and his brother had taken the throne, he wouldn't rest until her darling little Samuel would be no threat of him.

With her brother's help, Darlene made the difficult decision to go to America.

She packed the few things she had been able to save, took her son's hand and followed loyal Thomas into the plane that brought them to New York where they settled into an apartment in Harlem. No more titles, no more crowns, but safe and hidden under a new name.

The Wilson family, a fake marriage with her husband's oldest friend to keep them safe. 

As hard and difficult as the change was, as much as the paranoia over Jackson's people coming for them still shook her awake at night sometimes, Darlene also let herself welcome this new life. She owed it to Nicholas to not give up, she owed it to her soon two children to still smile and be happy.

Samuel took to New York like a fish to the sea, he loved the city and the people, he made friends easily with the children in their neighbourhood. And when little Sarah was born, he loved nothing more than to show her off to everyone, telling everyone how much he loved her and how much he would protect her.

He asked about Armoura often, about his father even more, Darlene never knew what to tell him, she only knew that if Nicholas still lived, he would come for them one day when their country was safe again.

\--

Time passed, the children grew.

Sam turned into a little cheeky faced troublemaker who loved to see people happy and laugh, he went to school, made friends with a scrap of a blond white boy who stumbled after Sam and admired everything he said and did. Sam and little Riley became best friends and Darlene was relieved that her little boy was happy.

Sarah, beautiful quiet and eternally content Sarah, was the soothing balm on her sometimes still troubled mind. Her beautiful daughter with her father's kind eyes, born far away from the country that would have fallen to its knees for a charming beauty like her.

Thomas and her became close, but never too close, she missed her husband every day still and he missed and respected the friend he had had. They were strong for each other, and though the children knew he wasn't their Dad and didn't call him such, they still looked at him for the comfort and the words a father could give.

They took vacations down in New Orleans where Thomas' mother lived, she spoiled the kids and Darlene didn't stop them when Sam and Sarah called her Nana. 

The kids grew and grew, and before she knew what was happening Sam was turning fourteen, a teenager suddenly. So tall and handsome, so smart and beautiful, turning heads left and right, whispering with Riley about their futures.

And she watched him, draped over Riley in the backyard of the little house in Harlem they had moved into only recently, laughing and grinning and she wondered about when he had last asked her about Armoura. About his father. It had been so long, so long since they had talked about the home they had left behind.

He was safe, but they had let him forget that he was a prince, because what good was there to keep him dreaming if they might never go back. What good was there in having her beautiful kind son worry about a future he might never have.

'Let him be happy' she had told Thomas when they had caught Samuel and Riley kissing behind the trees in their garden only two days later.

Let him be happy.

\--

The letter came on a Tuesday in late April, the boys were wrapped around each other on the bigger couch in the living room, Sam complaining about his Calculus grade and Riley grouchy about his parents's disinterest in their son's life. Sarah was boasting about her A in her English essay and Thomas close to grab all three teenagers and throw them out into the rainy New York afternoon.

Darlene had grabbed the simple looking white envelope from the mail man, had talked about the dreadful spring weather with Loreen from next door for a few minutes before returning inside. Sitting down in the kitchen to drown out the bickering drama loving teens.

No return address anywhere, just her address printed on the standardized envelope, the postmark and the stamp giving its origin away to Wakanda. It only puzzled her more though, her family did not write such impersonal letters.

They did in fact not write letters at all, phone calls, video chats, emails. Wakanda was years beyond the world's technology, why would any part of her family suddenly desire to communicate in paper. Even her cheeky darling nephew wouldn't grab papers for his sweet pranks.

But once she had opened the envelope, things became so much clearer.

The paper inside was red.

Darlene gasped, jumped to her feet with the letter cradled in her hands, the chair crashed to the ground, the sound alarming the rest of the house. Thomas and Sam were the first to come running into the kitchen, Sarah peaking in between their shoulders, Riley hovering in the background.

But Darlene couldn't see any of it, couldn't hear Thomas and Sam, both of them, asking if she was alright, because right there in her hands she was holding a letter written in dark grey ink on red paper.

The colors of her country.

And not the one she had been born in.

Because right there in her hands she was holding a letter with Armoura's flag in the upper right corner.

Armoura's flag bearing the crest of the Furianza family.

And below it she caught only sight of three words before her world blurred into tears of pure raw happiness.

'My dear Darla'

\--

Everything changed.

\--

They took the kids out of school for a few days, took the first set of flights they could find to get down to Wakanda and Darlene was too excited and too nervous to really worry about her children's quietness, the uncomfortable looks they shared.

They had been down in her home country before. Holidays, vacations, family moments. Sam and Sarah knew that her brother was a king, and they loved spending time with her family, they just didn't know that they were royalty, too. 

Not anymore.

Because it had been easier to forget it.

To let them be happy as normal kids.

And now?

Now as she was walking down the stairs of the private jet, her hands flung over her mouth as she caught sight of the tall man standing between her brother and her nephew, wearing the colors of his country, wearing the crest of his crown on his shirt, she knew that everything would change.

She couldn't run fast enough the moment her feet touched the tarmac ground, couldn't get to him fast enough and her heart was beating so fast in her chest by the time her husband could wrap his arms around her.

Nicholas.

She had her Nicholas back.

She was home.

\--

And Sam?

Sam felt as if he was stuck in another person's nightmare.

\--

"There you are."

Sam looked up and found T'Challa leaning against the palm tree, one of many in the far back of the royal gardens in Wakanda. Beautiful hidden places among them, one of which, next to a small fountain Sam had sought solace in. Only the birds singing in the trees and the two panther cubs splashing around in the water, no one there to bother him. 

No one there to look at him and expect something he didn't understand.

"Have they sent you to bring me back?" He asked his cousin without looking away from the two cubs playing, T'Challa though snorted and walked over, sitting down in the lush green grass right next to him, knocking their shoulders together.   
"No one sent me. I came looking for you quite on my own. You've been quiet these last two days." T'Challa told him and Sam sighed, dropped his head down until his chin nearly touched his chest and let his shoulders droop as well.

"I feel like I don't even know who I am anymore." Sam confessed quietly, feeling bad for it, everyone was so happy, so thrilled and so excited. Even his sister had gotten over the initial shock and surprise by now, only Sam seemed to be the only one still free-falling. "Did you know, Chall?" He questioned the boy next to him, one year older that T'Challa was compared to him only.

"No, not until King Nicholas arrived here. I learned about Armoura's history but never that my aunt is the vanished Queen, or that you are the vanished prince, let alone that my family was connected in any way to the king fighting for his throne." T'Challa explained and when Sam sighed for the third time, he wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulled him closer, "I cannot imagine how much of a shock this has to be."

"I'm a prince." Sam spoke the words out and they felt so foreign on his tongue, "I'm a prince, T'Challa, not only that...I'm the Crown Prince of my father's kingdom." And hello, there was the choking feeling in his chest again, a pressure on his rips and throat.  
"Do you have any memories of Armoura?" T'Challa either sensed his discomfort or blew over it by pure chance, Sam took it either way.

"No." He answered and shook his head a little, "I don't remember anything, neither bad nor good. All I have in memories I could never understand are my father's eyes. I don't even remember his voice, none of him, he's basically a stranger. How can my own father be a stranger to me?" They slipped into silence then, and maybe Sam was even happy that not even T'Challa could find an answer to that question.

They had been close ever since Sam could remember. 

Memories going back so far, two kids running through palace corridors, slipping away from minders into the bright gardens, running through fountains and trees. Memories of scaring little sisters from behind panther statues, of scaring other kids who had been mean to their little sisters. 

Vacations or trips to Wakanda had always been perfect, it was home in a way, these people were his family.

Sam felt safe here, felt comforted.

And T'Challa always knew what to say to make him feel better anyway, 'that's what older wiser cooler cousins are meant to be for' he had told Sam once with a smirk before Sam had rolled his eyes and pushed him into the grand fountain in the palace entrance courtyard.

"You know." T'Challa spoke up again after a few minutes, "I can't tell you what the future will bring now, I don't think anyone can. But no matter what happens, there is one thing I can promise you that will never change." And T'Challa twisted around and looked at him, "You'll always be family, Sam, and you'll always be my friend."

Needless to say it lifted the panic pressing down on his chest a bit.

It got lifted even further when the cubs decided to have had enough playtime and that they looked like the ideal way to get dry again. Sam screeched when something wet and heavy landed in his lap and he fell back into the grass when T'Challa had to let go of him as he was jumped at by his own wet soaking ball of fur.

\--

T'Challa and his friend Raji grabbed him after dinner before his mother could have made any new moves on getting him to talk to his father, Sam was so eternally grateful for it. They slipped past the guards out into the city, walked along the sidewalks and laughed, teased T'Challa about the girls making eyes at him.

It felt great.

As if nothing had changed.

"How are Riley and you doing?" T'Challa asked when they were sitting on a bench in the central square in the inner city, watching the sunset. Sam chuckled, dropping his gaze down to his hands, to the black leather band around his left wrist.  
"We're good. Things are really good." Sam mumbled and bit his lips to keep himself from grinning all loopy and happy, but failing when the urge overruled it.

On his right, Raji laughed, "Oh, first love, such wonders and brightness." On Sam's other side T'Challa snorted, leaning forward to glance over to his friend.  
"You're in the middle between the two of us when it comes to age, Raji. You turned fifteen like two weeks ago, what do you know about the wonders of love?" Raji huffed and threw the last piece of chocolate at T'Challa over Sam's head, but T'Challa simply used those sharp reflexes of his to catch it in his mouth.

With the pleasant warmth of thinking about Riley in his stomach, Sam leaned back and ignored their bickering, let his eyes slip close and his mind zero in on the last rays of sunshine falling upon his face.  
"It's gonna be okay, right?" He spoke up again when Raji and T'Challa had calmed down once more, "No matter what happens it's gonna be okay. I still got my family, I still got Riley and I still got you. I think I'm gonna be okay."

"Oh my god, you are so sappy."

"RAJI!"

"What? It's the truth!"

"Doesn't mean you have to be so crass about it!"

And Sam could only laugh as T'Challa jumped to his feet and Raji scrambled up from the bench as well, already making a dash around the fountain with the statue of King T'Chaka to bring distance between himself and whatever stupid idea had just taken root inside his best friend's mind. Sam though laughed and pressed a hand to his chest, felt the tears of joy jump up into his eyes as the very last ounce of pressure floated away.

He made a mental note to call Riley later once he was back in his room, catch up with him and make sure he would stop worrying.

It was gonna be okay. 

\--

On the next day, he did not immediately disappear from the table after he was finished with breakfast like T'Challa, Sarah and Shuri did, instead he remained behind and fiddled around with some more grapes while the adults talked. 

Conversations he drowned out in favor of talking himself back into being courageous and brave, he had talked with Riley over Skype for far longer than he probably should have last night, or at least his slightly too tired body told him as much this morning. Riley had looked so utterly relieved and happy upon seeing him smile again that it had flooded Sam's mind all over again just how much he loved this blond doofus. 

And Riley had also assured him in a surprisingly serious voice for once that he would never let anything be changed between them. A royal title or not. Distance or not. 

'We're gonna be best friends forever, Sammy. And I'm gonna love you forever.'

And then, as the conversations around him came to a pause, Sam jumped for the window of opportunity, looked up and caught the warm kind eyes of the man sitting across the table from him, caught his father's eyes.

"Can we talk?"

His father, King Nicholas, smiled in a first response, happiness letting his face appear so much younger even still, "Of course."

\--

King T'Chaka – uncle T'Chaka as he was still re-reminding Sam with a grin that looked just like his son's when T'Challa was plotting something really good – showed them to an empty conference room where they would have their privacy and no one would come to disturb them. 

Sam spent a good five minutes staring out of the windows down at the palace gardens below where his sister and Shuri were laughing and dancing over the grass while T'Challa was reading in the shadow of a panther statue. One of the panther cubs circling him with its head ducked low, practicing sneak attacks, if the smile on T'Challa's face was any indication, he was still very much aware of it.

His father had sat down at the table, patiently waiting for him to make the first move again, and Sam was wondering about where to start. When he got it, he turned around and smiled, walking over to a chair on the other side of the table and speaking up as he was still sitting down.

"Can you tell me about Armoura?"

"What do you want to know?" Nicholas asked right back and Sam bit his lip, thinking shortly, glancing outside briefly before looking back at his father. There was something that had been itching at the back of his mind ever since his mother had told him the truth about his past.  
"Are the hawks still flying through courtyard of the palace?" It broke the ice, for his father started smiling, grinning really as he leaned back and chuckled, his eyes telling stories about how much it meant to him.

Such a simple memory. Maybe the only thing Sam would ever remember about the few short years he had lived in Armoura so far, but he knew it was a true one.

The hawks flying through the palace courtyards, screeching so beautifully when he raced through them picking at seeds on the stone floor.

His father told him about Armoura and set at ease more and more, Sam asked him some more questions, and he didn't even realize that had slipped into the native language of his homeland until Sam was searching for a word and his father offered it up without any judgement.

"What is going to happen now?" Sam wanted to know after an hour and his father looked back at him where it was him standing at the windows now.  
"Nothing will happen until the end of the school year, son." Nicholas told him with his gentle voice, "And if you do not want, then nothing will change after the summer either. I do not want to take your home, your friends, away from you. It is correct that one day my crown will be yours, but we'll have a long time til then still."

Nicholas walked back to the table but stopped when he was standing behind Sam and the hands that settled on Sam's shoulders, they helped in taking the last pieces of unease and nervousness off of Sam's heart.

"Armoura will always be ready to welcome you home, Samuel. Whether it be in six months, in six years or in twenty, it will always be your home." And Sam smiled at his father as Nicholas sank into the chair next to him, "Now. Why don't you tell me something about New York? About that nice boy Thomas has already told me about?"

And Sam laughed but happily talked about Riley and school.

\--

Sam returned to Harlem and New York for the rest of the school year, Riley wanting to know everything that had happened. The plan was simple and easy, Sam would spent a few weeks of the summer in Armoura and only then and with his involvment would any decisions be made regarding his future.

It never came so far.

They were out in Brooklyn, Riley and him, on the first day of summer break, gone out to Coney Island with the full intent to go on every ride and eat their body weight in sugar to celebrate the start of the summer. They were happy and giddy, and so excited, so in love.

So happy and distracted with each other that they didn't see the group of men following them until they were jumped and dragged away into a side alley just outside of the amusement park.

And then everything happened too fast.

The first punches flew and weapons were drawn and fallen upon Riley on the ground, Sam felt his entire chest flare up with pure panic as he recognized the sign on the men's jackets and vests. A sign his father had shown him in order for Sam to know when he should not fight but run.

His uncle's men. The men who wanted to end the line of his family. Wanted to end him.

"RILEY RUN!"

But even though he screamed and they fought with all they had, there was nowhere to go, they were outnumbered and outpowered. And the left sight of his face already burning and his chest aching, a hand pushed over his mouth and nose, struggling to breathe Sam had to watch how Riley was pulled to his feet again as well, a gun to his head, eyes wide.

He wouldn't be able to understand the men talk in Armoura's native language, rendering him even more scared and panicked, and Sam who understood every single word, felt the world drop out from under his feet. 

They had found him.

"We should finish this now."

"We have orders."

"Screw the orders, let's finish the boy off here."

"He wants proof."

"Take a picture."

Everything got only worse when police sirens could be heard from down the street and Sam tensed when he felt the barrel of a gun against the back of his head, found a strange relief in realizing that it was the same men who had previously held his gun to Riley's temple to set him quiet. At least Riley would be okay.

But the thought hadn't even really settled in Sam's head when he caught Riley's eyes and he recognized the look in them, wanted to scream against it, wanted to fight but he couldn't move, couldn't speak a single word.

Don't, he tried to let his eyes beg, don't, not for me, don't do this.

Riley mouthed 'I love you' and then moved.

\--

Three shots.

It took three shots to destroy Sam's life.

Police cars barrelled into the alley, the men cursed and ran, but Sam saw none of it. Not how officers screamed and ran after the man, how a single officer brought up his walkie-talkie to call for an ambulance and back-up.

He saw none of it.

He was still dropping down onto his own knees where he had been pushed away from the man holding him, still sinking himself in such painful slow motion while Riley was falling in front of him. And it was as if he was only there to watch. Only thing left to do was watch.

Watch how Riley hit the ground and didn't move anymore.

How his eyes stared at the blue sky above them, open, unseeing.

His knees hit the ground and he was finally moving forward, still caught in an endless loop of 'nononono' inside his head. Someone in the alley was screaming. He pulled Riley's head onto his thighs, pushed hands over the bleeding wounds in Riley's chest. Someone in the alley was crying. He stroked fingers down Riley's cheek, through his hair.

\--

"Death doesn't happen to the person dying. It happens to everyone around them."

\--

In the police station, Thomas found him shaking and trembling, sitting on a cold plastic chair in a side corridor, the tears running over his face without any sobs following, Sam wasn't feeling anything anymore. It was as if the people who had taken Riley's body away from him, had taken his heart, his soul and the warmth inside of him away as well.

Sam was cold, he was hollow, he was crushed.

Riley was dead.

Riley had died for him.

Sam's hands were still dripping with Riley's blood as Thomas fell to his knees in front of him, talked to him, called his name, but Sam could only stare right through him. Too disconnected from everything and everyone to still have control over his mind.

Riley was dead.

He would never see him again. He would never hear him laugh again. He would never get to see him smile or frown anymore. 

Riley would never kiss him again, or hold his hand, or hold him.

Riley was dead.

"Riley is dead because of me."

And Thomas' loud protests fell on deaf ears.

\--

His mother could give him just enough time to watch Riley be lowered into the ground, just enough to say goodbye to someone he had never ever wanted to say goodbye to before Thomas and her ushered Sarah and Sam into a private plan in the dark of the night. Sarah was terrified, clung to Thomas, hiding in the hoodie she must have grabbed from her brother's closet, it was at least two sizes too big on her.

His mother was pale, frightened, the second the plane was steady up in the air, she was out of her seat again, pacing the length of the small plane, continuously on the phone, sometimes even with two at the same time. Thomas, stern faced, no sign of the smile he always wore anymore, was comforting his sister, talking quietly to her, stroking her hair.

And Sam?

Sam wasn't there.

Sam felt nothing, he was numb, all that was left of him was a black hole of nothingness. 

He saw the fear in the faces of his family, but he felt nothing. He saw his hands, clean now, clean again for days already, but he could still see them red, he could still feel Riley's blood on them, but there was no pain, there was just nothing in his heart anymore.

When they landed outside of Armoura's capital, an army of kingsguards was waiting for them, settled down into cars with darkened windows, his mother, Thomas and his sister in one and Sam, as the heir, into another.

Alone.

So utterly, utterly alone in a darkened cold place.

Because that was what he was now. That was what he was now after he had lost the light, the warmth, the boy he had truly loved. Lost him because of a title he wasn't wearing still, lost him because of a country he didn't remember.

Riley had died for him, because he loved him.

And now, Sam was alone.

Alone in a dark cold place.

\--

They weren't allowed to leave the palace unguarded as long as his uncle's men weren't found and brought to justice. Sarah complained endlessly about it a week after their arrival in Armoura, she wanted to explore, wanted to meet people, wanted to see the city.

Sam didn't say a word. 

Sam didn't even care.

He sat in the pillowed window alcove in his bedroom, looked out at the palace gardens, at the city all around the palace hill, at the sun that always shone, at the people living their lives, at the people being happy.

And he hated it.

He hated them, he hated the sun, he hated the palace, he hated the country.

He hated everything.

He knew in the back of his mind, that part of himself that wasn't bitter and broken, that no one here was at fault for what had happened, that they hated and feared his uncle and his men just as much as he did. But for the boy in him who had lost the best friend in his world, who had lost the boy he had loved, it felt like everything here was to blame.

It felt like Armoura had cost him Riley.

And he was in no way ready to forgive them. Let alone ready to forgive himself.

Riley was dead, Sam had lost his home, he barely spoke the language of the country he was going to live in now and everyone was a stranger.

He hated it.

\--

They called him the 'Twice Lost Prince'.

His sister told him as much, she was more or less the only one Sam let into his rooms, and therefor the only one he really saw outside of dinners and breakfasts where he forced himself to walk down the corridors and stairs to eat what little he could stomach.

The Twice Lost Prince.

Once to the rebellion in their country, and then to the pain inside his own heart.

And Sam wanted to laugh at his sister's quiet words, if only there was pain he could lose himself to, if only there was something except this numbness he was drowning in. He knew Sarah was worried for him, scared that she was losing him, too. Riley had been her friend as well, she had lost her home, too, but he couldn't, he couldn't bring himself to feel anything else but this blaring emptiness and that bitter hatred of everything good.

Riley hadn't deserved to die. He had been so good, he had had dreams and plans for a future. He had deserved the world, but instead demons from Sam's past that he didn't even remember himself had taken that away from him, had taken him away from Sam.

\--

Nine weeks after Riley's funeral, ten weeks after Riley's death, someone ran out of patience and kid gloves with Sam, and though he would have expected his mother, Thomas or even his father who was trying so hard to ease his children into this new world for them, it was someone else.

As it was, Sam lurched awake one morning when the door of his bedroom crashed open, banging against the wall, still gasping from the recurring nightmares he had been ripped away from, Sam could only blink at the figures striding into his room. One going for the windows, pulling heavy black curtains to the side, blinding Sam with the sun glaring from a fucking spotless blue sky again. The other one coming over to him, ripping blankets away and pulling him to his feet, pushing him over to the bathroom the second Sam was even only halfway standing.

"Get a shower, you have fifteen minutes or I'm sending Raji and his three months of medical training after you."

And the last thing Sam was allowed to catch sight of before T'Challa slammed the bathroom door in his face was Raji taking a step in Sam's direction with a dangerous smirk on his face.

When he reopened the door again exactly fourteen and a half minutes later, T'Challa was lying on his bed, thumbing through a book while Raji was randomly pulling clothes out of the walk-in closet in the corner. Scoffing at them all. Sam hadn't felt this uncomfortable in a robe in a long long time.

"You have nothing to wear." Raji exclaimed in his usual dramatic fashion as he spotted Sam standing only a one step out of his own private bathroom, feet bare, modesty protected by a soft dark grey bathrobe and black boxers. This was either the weirdest dream he had had in months or the weirdest awake experience he had in a year.

"Just pick something, Raji." T'Challa drawled from Sam's new bed, setting one book to the side and reaching for another one from the nightstand, Sam didn't even remember that there had been books in the first place. "He's not going to a banquet, he just needs clothes."  
"Doesn't mean he has to dress in just the first shirt he finds in the morning." Raji deadpanned, shaking his head at a red pair of pants that Sam didn't recognize as his own before vanishing back into the closet.

"We're comforting our grieving friend and you still find chances to insult my fashion sense." T'Challa quipped from the bed with an eye roll and set another book to the side.  
"You don't have a fashion sense, Chall, hence why I am having such an easy time. Why is there so much red in here?" Raji called out from the closet and then added some muffled Wakandian curses that even Sam's stunned mind could make out. 

"Well, that can take a while still." T'Challa noted with much amusement and sat up again, patting the bed to gain Sam's attention. "Are these your books?"  
"Yes?" Sam answered with a question, flinching when his voice came out croaking and broken, T'Challa though didn't even blink any different upon hearing him, just grabbed another book.   
"Didn't know you were into owls now." T'Challa went on and curiosity finally poked enough, Sam walked over to him, reaching for one of the discarded books.

It was indeed a encyclopedia on owls.

The fuck?

Owls?

Sitting down on the bed, Sam frowned down at the book in his hands, trying without success to flip through the last weeks in order to figure out if there had ever been a time where he had mentioned owls to anyone. 

"Eagles? Penguins?" T'Challa tried and held up two more books, Sam stared at them first and then at his cousin, disbelief clearly written all over his face, he could see it mirrored back at him in T'Challa's eyes.  
"There is another one about ostriches in here." Raji called out, emerging from the closet with a soft looking pale blue shirt and dark blue shorts.   
"Ostriches?" Sam wanted to know before spluttering when Raji threw the clothes in his face, he glared at him and set the owl book to the side to get dressed. 

"What are you guys doing here?" He asked when he was done, coming back out of the bathroom where he had hung up the robe again, T'Chall and Raji both looked up where they were now both lying on his bed.

"T'Challa wanted to get away from writing another speech."

"Raji wanted a break from getting his ass kicked by his sister."

"So you decided to come here?" Sam looked at their neutral faces and somehow got the feeling that the answer to his question was so obvious that he should have gotten to it by now, but his brain was mush. Thoughts going slow. His head still figuring out why he was moving. On the bed, Raji was turning his head to look up at T'Challa who in turn was blinking at Sam.  
"You think about scrapping plana A and B and going directly to C?" Raji questioned and T'Challa gave a short "Yeah" before jumping off the bed and walking over to Sam.

"What is plan C?" Sam demanded to know, taking a step back on autopilot when T'Challa curled gentle fingers around his upper arm and began to pull him along. Sam stumbled a little as he was pulled backwards, eyes now set on Raji slowly getting to his feet as well again, his grin sharp and promising all kinds of troubles. It was a puzzle for Sam until this day how everyone always looked to T'Challa and him first when something had happened again, considering that about eighty percent of the time it was Raji who came up with the stupid ideas in the first place.

But people looked at them, saw tall strong T'Challa and Sam, and little skinny Raji peaking out from behind them and zeroed in on the cousins.

Unfair.

Alright, fine, they had never exactly been innocent in their endeavors either but it had been Raji most of the time who had formed ideas. 

"Raji, what is plan C?" Sam repeated as he frantically pointed to his shoes in the corner by the sideboard in the sitting room as T'Challa was already steering him out into the corridor. Raji chuckled and grabbed the simple black sneakers.  
"Wouldn't you like to know, Sammy? We'll tell you once we 're down in the city." Raji evaded really answering Sam's question and Sam closed his eyes when T'Challa spun him around to walk forward again.

"I'm not allowed to leave the palace alone." Sam pointed out, stopping them just long enough to put on his shoes before stumbling along to T'Challa's long steps and Raji's quick ones.  
"You're not alone." T'Challa deadpanned and Sam growled at him for the hidden sarcasm as they walked down the main corridor towards where he knew the kitchens and dining rooms to be situated.

"I meant without guards." Sam corrected his statement and Raji pushed himself between T'Challa and him, wrapped an arm each around one of theirs and steered them left at the end of the corridor, down the servants staircase.  
"I'd like to see anyone intending to harm you try and get past Chall." Raji grinned and squeezed Sam's arm, "You'll be fine with us, Sam."

\--

They actually managed to get out of the palace unseen and unnoticed, Sam was beginning to wonder Raji's older sister didn't teach them all the wrong moves. If Okoye knew just what Raji was using his lessons for, she might actually think twice about answering even one more question her little brother had for the upcoming leader of the Dora Milaje.

Not that Sam would ever tattle on them, their knowledge was way too useful usually.

They went down into the city, walked along the streets and alleys, after some looks thrown their way, especially towards T'Challa, Raji bought them horrible looking caps to hide under, even though no one really knew how Sam looked. He had kept himself hidden too much.

They grabbed something to eat on the market place, evaded the crowded popular areas and played football with a group of kids for hours on the beach made shore of the lake that surrounded half of the city. And Sam found himself laughing when a four year old tripped, crashed against T'Challa and in his desperate try not to fall upon the kid, T'Challa got a face full of sand while his hands kept the wide eyed boy standing.

Sam's team won.

The afternoon was spend exploring more corners of the city and though Sam couldn't find the words inside of him, T'Challa and Raji talked without being prompted to. It gave Sam time to look at the city and the people around them, time to admire and be in awe, time to see good things, beautiful things, happy things.

And not hate everything as much as he had feared he would.

As the sun settled over the city, they found themselves back at the lake shore, sitting on a now empty beach with their feet in the lukewarm water. And the silence around Sam was not choking for once, it felt good, it felt like room to heal in.

And for the first time in weeks, Sam found himself smile as a memory of Riley came to mind, of sitting with him down in Central Park on a summer night, watching the lights of the city come to life around them. 

"I miss him so much." He confessed quietly and T'Challa and Raji both turned to look at him, "I don't miss Harlem or New York, or our little house. I just miss Riley so much. He was so great, he didn't deserve what happened. He shouldn't have died." And his voice broke as the sob slipped from his chest into his throat, he slumped against T'Challa when his cousin laid his arm around his shoulders. "He shouldn't have died for me. They wanted me, not him."  
"No one deserved what happened that day, Sam." T'Challa's warm voice spoke up against Sam's head, "Neither Riley, nor you. It's okay to miss him, Sam, but don't blame yourself. None of this was your fault, none of it."

"Riley loved you, Sam, and his love helped him make a choice." Raji said and when Sam glanced up he found him staring out over the lake, something in his voice demanding attention, a glance to the side found T'Challa looking at his best friend with a small frown, Sam still pulled close. "He was faced with the chance to protect you, and of course he didn't deserve to die. No one deserves to die for love, but I understand why he did it. I would do it, too. In a heartbeat. I may not love T'Challa like Riley loved you, but I would lay my life on the line for him every single day. Riley made a choice, Sam. He didn't deserve to die, but he made a choice, he chose saving you. And we should respect it."

Sam cried then, really let himself cry again for the first time since Riley had lain bleeding in his arms, hid his face against T'Challa's shoulder and cried and screamed for the friend and the love he had lost. It hurt, it hurt so bad, but the pressure on his chest was also lifting.

\--

It didn't simply switch things back to good, but the day out with T'Challa and Raji helped in loosening the locks and chains Sam had wrapped around his emotions and his heart. And both, T'Challa and Raji for a change as well, both of them repeated a hundred times that the lecture over responsibility they cashed in from King Nicholas and Thomas upon returning to the palace about vanishing with Sam without telling anyone was totally worth it to have seen Sam smile a few times.

Sam stopped hiding out in his room all the time, found the strength and energy to slowly step back into a life, even if he often pulled back to get space, to just take a moment to breathe. He could see how everyone around him breathed a sigh of undeniable relief. He let himself grieve openly now, let others help, let others comfort him.

Riley would always be in his heart, but Sam also knew that Riley would have wanted him to live life for both of them.

\--

On Sam's fifteenth birthday, Sam and Sarah officially got introduced to court and the public, their family with them. Aunt Ramonda had come with T'Challa, Shuri and Raji, and it brought comfort for all of them. Sam knew his mother was nervous, the first grand event back in Armoura after she had fled from her home over twelve years ago, Ramonda helped, stood by her side.

Sarah and Shuri giggled and laughed a lot, spun around in their summer dresses and Sam actually felt great in seeing them so happy. Sam was also quite convinced after watching them during lunch in the grand hall that both of them were crushing on Raji, adorable and sweet, and he was even more convinced that Raji was more than just aware of it, smiled back and didn't roll his eyes when either of his friends' little sisters broke out into giggles over it.

But Shuri distracted Sarah from being afraid, quite easily showed her friend in all a playful manner how to act, how to behave. Sam and Sarah have so far only gotten a crash course in royal etiquette, there would be more lessons soon. 

Sam himself was alright, most of all because T'Challa and Raji never really strayed far from his side, pulling him away with gentle polite smiles and perfect excuses when it looked like Sam might need a moment to breathe in between talking to so many people. His father supported him as well, a hand on his shoulder or his arm, squeezing, patting, introducing him to people with proud words and immediately discreetly waving T'Challa or Raji over when he felt Sam get uncomfortable.

Things weren't perfect. Things might as well never get back to normal again, certainly not the normal Sam had known until a few months ago.

But he let himself step back into life, found himself enjoying things again. 

Like dancing after the dinner party for his birthday.

Shuri didn't have to beg long, Sam gladly took her onto the dancefloor. Sarah had taken all courage into her hands and asked Raji, leaving T'Challa settled with the handsy ambassador's daughter. Something Sam and Raji non-verbally commented with a thick amused grin. 

\--

As the summer came to an end, Sam was slowly feeling like himself again, a different version of himself, but still, he was beginning to look at the good things again without feeling like being torn apart by betrayal.

He would always miss Riley, would always mourn him, but as the days of summer break were over, he was remembering the good moments more often than the bad. How Riley had loved the sun, how Riley had loved to laugh, how his eyes had shone in the moonlight. 

It was going to be okay.

Sarah attended the private school in the city, but Sam had after talking long with his father and mother decided on the private teacher for now. Being surrounded by so many people day by day, strangers, teenagers, without a chance to escape, Sam didn't think he could handle it just yet. Most of all because now where he didn't hide himself away anymore, it seemed like everyone just wanted to see their no longer lost prince.

They meant well.

But Sam had lived the last twelve years of his life in privacy, as just one anonymous person in one of the biggest cities of the world. All that attention was new and not always welcome, T'Challa told him that he would grow used to it, that the people only meant well, that they still loved their prince so very much.

Three times a week their afternoons were filled with special education on Armoura's history, their family's history and royal etiquette, though the last one was by far the easiest. Sam and Sarah might have not known about their lost titles, but they had still known that their mother was the sister of a king, manners and etiquette had been ingrained in them as well, at least a little.

Sometimes, the days were even fun again.

\--

Years passed. 

Sam grew and learned, settled into the role of a prince and began to get comfortable with it.

Nicholas turned into Dad, and they built up a relationship with each other again, turned from strangers into friends and only then into father and son, but Sam didn't want to miss a single piece of advice or support anymore by the time his sixteenth birthday came around.

And before he really know what was happening, Armoura felt like home. T'Challa came off age and officially became Wakanda's Crown Prince. Raji's severe injuries after a mountain accident triggered his powers. Sarah fell in love with the future king of Belgium and ribbed her parents into letting her attend the international school in Brusselles.

And Sam felt a little lonely.

Happy but also lonely.

And with every day, his nineteenth birthday came closer and with it the official duties of a Crown Prince of Armoura, and the sleepless nights happened more often.

What if he wasn't good enough?

\--


End file.
